


Of fashion and fitness

by RedChucks



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: A bit of one-sided pining on Vince’s part, Gen, Howard being dense as usual, Vince being unsubtle in his lust, shirtless Howard, that good old unresolved sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 10:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19149271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: - Howard’s latest hyperfixation is fitness and he’s proud of his fit new bod, but is still haplessly dense when it comes to Vince -Written for the BringingBackTheBoosh Fashion prompt and I gave myself the opening line prompt “Take it off” to get my writing juices moving.





	Of fashion and fitness

“Take it off!”

Howard scoffed as Vince stamped his foot. He had finally gotten under Vince’s skin, was finally going to win an argument, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

He darted back out of Vince’s reach as the smaller man lunged toward him, desperate to take back the little pink and black striped knit top that Howard had been parading around in. Vince snarled in frustration but Howard put the kitchen table between them and waggled his finger at Vince as he affected his most patronising tone.

“Ah, ah, ah, Vince. Don’t tug on it. You’ll ruin the fabric. You wouldn’t want that.”

“You’ve already ruined the fabric!” Vince screeched, his eyes darting as he tried to figure out which way he should go around the table to get to Howard. He was so obvious, always had been when it came to games of chase or anything that required tactical thinking, and Howard continued to evade him, his grin growing wider as Vince’s frustration increased. “Come on, Howard, please? You’ve made your point, now give it back!”

Howard circled back around the table, resettling the top over his muscled chest and flat stomach. It really was very comfortable and he didn’t particularly want to give it back, not when it was making Vince so cross. Plus, despite Vince’s protestations that Howard had stretched his new top out of shape, the fit wasn’t bad. The sleeves were a little short but Howard had nice wrists and wasn’t above showing them off, and the stretch knit fabric showed off the muscular pectorals and abdominals he had worked so hard for. 

“Oh, I’ve made my point, have I?” he said mockingly, posing the way he’d seen Vince do when he was modelling his new outfits in the mirror and noticing Vince begin to blush as he too recognised the exaggerated movements. Vince wasn’t used to being mocked. “Well in that case maybe you’d like to admit that you were wrong and that my new jazzercise regime has yielded some very fine results and that I am in fact in very good shape and perfectly capable of fitting in to your clothes if I so choose.”

Vince whined and looked up at Howard all puppy eyed and Howard nearly relented, but he couldn’t forget Vince’s cruel words, the way he’d sneered at Howard when he’d tried to proudly show how many inches he’d lost from around his waist and how strong he’d become after sticking to his regime for a full six months. He’d honestly thought that Vince, his best mate, would be proud of him, and encouraging, but Vince it seemed still hadn’t forgiven him for the ban on cakes and biscuits in the flat. Technically Vince was free to buy or make his own sweet baked goods but Vince hadn’t seen it that way and had sulked every time they sat down for a cup of tea and he had nothing sweet to dip in his already sugar-saturated beverage. 

“Fine,” Vince finally relented. “I take it back. You’re not an unbelievably overweight buffalo man. Can I have my top back now?” Howard raised his eyebrow questioningly, waiting, and watched as Vince purses his lips and looked off in to space. He was trying to figure out a way to charm him, Howard knew that look well enough, but he wouldn’t be falling for it, no sir. For once he had the upper hand and he was not going to waste it. Eventually Vince let out another whine and closed his eyes tight. “Fine! You’ve got hot abs and hot pecs and hot biceps and you’re just hot, okay! Like a bloody attractive sun god from the future or something! You look hot and it’s not fair and you don’t have to rub it in!”

Howard’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that but Vince admitting that Howard was attractive and fit felt wonderful and he puffed his chest out all the more, feeling the thin knit top stretch as he did so. He really would ruin Vince’s top if he carried on flexing, he realised, and he didn’t want to do that to him, so carefully took it off and held it out. He’d had his fun and got his way and he didn’t want to really upset Vince, not when his cheeks were so red and his lips had gone all pouty. 

“Here,” he said to get Vince’s attention, holding out the top, but when Vince finally opened his eyes he didn’t take it, and didn’t make any of the comments Howard had expected from him in retaliation.

Instead Vince squeaked, his eyes going so wide they reminded Howard of the glass eyes they currently had on display down in the shop, huge and rolling about and ever so shiny. His cheeks were so red that Howard fancied he could almost feel the heat from them and Vince’s Adam’s apple was bobbing as his mouth opened and closed. 

“Are you alright, Vince?” Howard asked, taking a step forward, arm out and ready in case Vince should faint. It had happened before and was usually fashion-related, and Howard didn’t want to be responsible for causing Vince real distress. But Vince took a step back, his eyes focused on Howard’s chest, staring as if Howard still had the embarrassing growth that had caused such disgust when they were younger. He looked down just to check but his chest was bare save for the sparse hair there, and he looked back at Vince with increasing worry. “Vince?”

“I’m fine,” Vince said eventually, but a little too quickly, holding the pink and black top to his chest. “Just... I didn’t mean to say all that. And, and, and fashion is my thing, yeah? You stick to jazzercise and protein shakes and stationary and I’ll stick to fashion and, and...” 

Vince clamped his lips together again to stop himself from saying anything else. He was staring at Howard’s chest again and Howard watched as his friend’s eyes traveled down, cataloguing the muscles now on view thanks to Howard’s exercise, diet, and lack of shirt. Vince was acting strange and Howard was confused. This wasn’t how their teasing went. It was almost like Vince was jealous, like he wanted what Howard had, but that couldn’t be right. Vince had no interest in exercising or gaining muscle; he’d admitted as much to Howard and he complained all the time about his muscular thighs. But he was looking at Howard’s stomach muscles, and the defined V or his hips, like he wanted them, and then it suddenly hit him.

“Hey now, Vince,” he said reassuringly, taking a careful step forward so that Vince wouldn’t startle and dart away. “You don’t have to feel bad. There’s more to you than just fashion. You’ve got lots of talents and hobbies. And I bet that little top will look twice as good on you as it did on me. I was just playing.”

He took another careful step and folded his arms around Vince, who he could now see was physically shaking, and pulled him in to a hug, ignoring Vince’s second, louder, squeak and his own personal discomfort at being so physically close to someone. It was stiff at first but Howard kept at it. Vince liked hugs, he’d said so often enough over the years, and Howard always relented when it was clear that Vince really needed one.

For a moment Vince leant in to the hug, going so far as to touch his hand delicately to Howard’s chest, but then suddenly he was scooting away, moving his hips back first and then slipping out of Howard’s arms to half slip across the room, holding his new top in front of him and looking like he was about to throw up. 

“I know there’s more to me than fashion,” he said breathily, eyes darting about to look anywhere but at Howard. “I just like it, that’s all. And now, if you’re quite done, I’ve got some... fashion related... things... to do.” He turned to flounce away, leaving Howard confused in the kitchen, but turned back after only two steps. “Oh, and Howard, thanks for the hug.”

Howard grinned, his confidence flooding back and swelling his chest once more, but Vince continued to scurry away toward his room, only to stop, again, just before he was out of sight, looking at Howard for a long, considering moment. 

“Oh, and Howard,” he said slowly, his eyes traveling along Howard’s new and hard earned muscles before finally glancing at his face. “You should go shirtless more often. It suits you. Better than any of your ugly clothes do anyway.”

Howard watched him go with a shake of his head. He wasn’t going to take that bait. Vince had once convinced him that togas were all the rage and had then laughed himself silly when Howard had gone out in public in his hand altered toga sheet. Howard wouldn’t fall for that again, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go shirtless around the flat. Even Vince had admitted that he looked good, hadn’t he? 

Howard strutted toward his bedroom, feeling good. Maybe he should ask Vince to help him put together a new wardrobe after all, since he’d lost weight and gained muscle. He’d ask, he decided, once Vince had finished whatever he’d locked himself in his room to do. He listened for a moment at Vince’s door, just to make sure that he was alright, but aside from a few soft squeaks and whimpers there was quiet and Howard decided to leave Vince alone. No doubt he was stressing over his clothing and what he would need to do to keep up with the latest Camden style. 

Fashion, Howard thought with a chuckle, who needed it? especially when he had hobbies and fitness and a healthy lifestyle, and his friendship with Vince. He had liked that top though, he thought as he walked to his own room. Maybe, if he baked just one batch of angel cakes, Vince would let him borrow it every once in a while. 

****


End file.
